the bullring were in high spirits, not calling for help. She had to stand on the desk chair to get a better view. Rafael was taunting a russet-colored bull with a flying swirl of his cape, and ranch hands shouted, "Ole!" She climbed down from the chair and pulled it back to the desk.
The man definitely had the balls to be a matador, but she'd seen more than enough. She'd watch the video later when he would surely brag about it. She opened the third journal and found Augustin had begun recording Miguel's fights with the same intensity to detail he'd shown in his own. There were no more drawings, and the photos slipped into the book were all of Miguel.
Her father had been so young when she'd been born, and the photos showed him before his fights, before his glistening costume became splattered with a bull's blood. She thought Santos would be able to appreciate his grandfather's commentaries, but if her brother had learned to stay out of their grandfather's way, probably not. Maybe there was a history museum that would want Augustin's journals. She doubted Carmen would deign to discuss the subject. Maggie carefully replaced the journals in the tin box and put it away.
Mrs. Lujan's description of Augustin's memoirs had sounded as though he'd been working on an assortment of materials rather than simply journals. If so, what had become of his personal papers and reflections? Had Carmen taken them or destroyed them? Hoping to find personal albums on the shelves, she began searching close to the desk. When she heard Santos and Rafael come through the front door, she walked out into the hall. They were all sweaty and dusted with dirt and still so handsome she thought it awfully unfair women had to go to so much trouble to look good.
"Have you ever read Augustin's journals?" she asked Santos. "They're carefully detailed descriptions of bullfights and might be of interest to you."
Santos looked down at his clothes. "I need to shower first, but I'd like to see them."
Rafael folded the cape he'd brought for practice and waited while Santos started up the stairs. "You've been reading Augustin's journals?"
"Yes, that's why I came here. I was hoping to discover something about him and the family. They're all strangers to me."
He moved close to brush her lips with a light kiss. "I thought you'd come to be with me."
She'd hoped to get away from him for a few days rather than overdose on his charm. She attempted to look contrite. "I'm so sorry to disappoint you."
He flashed a quick smile. "No, not at all. Tonight you won't have to go home."
He ran up the stairs, and Maggie leaned back against the den's doorjamb. Fox came in and pulled the front door closed. "You should have come out to see them. They argued over which one is the best, but they're both good. Different, but equally good."
"How are they different?"
"If Santos shows the video later, you'll see. They just worked the bull with their capes. They didn't kill him. They'll choose a fresh bull tomorrow."
"Wonderful." She stifled a groan.
They heard a car drive up, and Fox went to the door and looked out. "Is that who I think it is?" he asked.
Maggie came up behind him. "Yes, it's Ana Santillan."
"Which one of them is screwing her?" he whispered.
"Fox, don't be crude. She's Santos's friend."
Fox was out the door like a shot to carry her bag. Ana was dressed in tight jeans and a coppery knit top. Her hair flowed over her shoulders in bouncy waves. She looked as though she'd just stepped away from a fashion shoot. Relieved to have another woman there, Maggie smiled warmly. She hoped neither of them would be caught up in Rafael and Santos's endlessly rivalry. They thrived on competition, but she'd gladly avoid it.
"Magdalena," Ana called. "It's nice to see you again. Where's Santos?"
"In the shower. Fox, why don't you carry Ms. Santillan's bag upstairs?"
"Sure." He started up the stairs. "Do you know which room is yours?"
She laughed as though his question were absurd. "I'm staying with Santos."
Fox's fair complexion filled with a bright blush, and he turned away to dash up the stairs.
"Isn't he a little old to think we'd have separate rooms?" she whispered.
"I don't know him well enough to say," Maggie replied. Ana followed Fox upstairs, and Maggie returned to the den to continue her search of the bookshelves and found a row of albums similar to the one